Of Scotch and Solitude
by Jaeger Gipsy Danger
Summary: Famous author Richard Castle ponders the future of his latest heroine with a bottle of scotch and a broken heart


AN: I have no idea how the next book "Frozen Heat" due out in September will turn out. This is my own idea and just occurred to me when I saw how angry he was after finding out that Kate had lied about remembering.

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><p><strong>Of Scotch and Solitude<strong>

The next Nikki Heat book wasn't due out until September. It wasn't too late to make a few changes. Well, maybe just one change. His publisher might have a tantrum. He really didn't care. After all, his books helped buy that antique furniture and fancy marble tile in their offices. His books that bought new cars for their wives every year. His books, which enabled them to get out of the city and out to the Hampton's every summer. He tossed the preview book jacket of "Frozen Heat" down on his desk and poured himself another scotch. He was drinking 36-year-old, Kinclaith, $415 per 2-ounce pour, as if it were water. He didn't care about that either. Sometimes a little self-medicating was just the thing. He didn't need talk it over with his daughter or listen to his Mother's advice. He especially didn't need pancakes. He just wanted to be alone with his single malt. Alone to ponder the aching hole in his heart. He wiped his hand across his face. Damn scotch was making his eyes burn. In his whole life, he had never been this angry.

His computer beckoned from the desk. The screen saver was running a slide show of all his book covers. His anger flared. Stupid books. Meaningless stories. Nothing was real. Nothing a man could hang to and call true. Just stories. Well he was going to end this story right now. Close the chapter and call it a day. He flexed his fingers, mumbling to his hand, "You have the power of life and death!" When he reached for the laptop, it slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor.

"How ironic. You cannot escape from me that easily! It's time to pay for your deception and lies."

After another scotch and some grappling on the couch, he got the laptop powered back up. Now he would do it. He laughed aloud remembering a line from one of his favorite televisions shows. Now how did it go? Oh yeah. That's right. He waited until the frozen_heat document came up on the screen, "'I swear by my pretty flowered bonnet I will end you.'"

How to do it? He stared at the screen his fingers poised on the keyboard. Every instinct in him wanted it to end now. Drowning in the Hudson? Drug deal gone bad? Kidnapped by aliens? Bullet to the chest? He shoved the laptop aside and got up to stare out the window. The fumes from the scotch were making his eyes water again He scrubbed his face with his hand to make it stop.

The chapters of his life began a screen show of their own. The first time he'd been in love and that little bundle of big blue eyes and fuzzy red hair that had been the sign of that love. That first love hadn't lasted. It had lasted exactly as long as it took her to get her figure back. Nevertheless, the love for his daughter was real and forever. He shook his head. Reflecting back over your life? A literary cliché if there ever was one.

"Focus," he said, to the dark and empty room.

The room wasn't empty. Far from it. It was full of the characters he had created over the years. Some he'd loved. Some he'd hated. Some had overstayed their welcome and few had disappointed him. Sometimes you had to stay with a character to see how they would turn out. You had to help them along. It could be a painful process. Sometimes it didn't turn out the way you thought it would. Not every character and plot fit neatly together. That's when you had to let it go and start over. Okay then. What did he have? A brilliant, beautiful daughter, a wall full of books and enough money to give him the freedom to keep writing.

And, he would keep writing. At least long enough to close this particular chapter of his life. He poured another scotch; this was the last one he told himself and sat down with the laptop. Time to get back to work. So what was the plan? He started typing. The Hudson River was calling.

What if he didn't want to write anymore? What if this was the end? He raised the glass to his lips… empty. Damn. He could live out in the Hampton's permanently. Become a fixture at the local bar. Plenty of good company. He could sign books, tell stories, flirt with the ladies and drink good scotch. Live a life just as superficial as the characters in his books. Maybe that is all he ever had coming to him anyway. For a moment, he'd dared to dream. But it turned out to be just another story.

First thing in the morning, he was heading to his house in the Hampton's. All he had to do now was write two more sentences and hit send. He looked down at the screen. Nikki was fighting for her life at the hands two Chinese Mafia bad guys. They were bigger than she was. This effectively preventing her from using martial arts to defend herself. They'd picked her up and headed toward the water. There was really no way she could escape. Just two more sentences and the Hudson would claim another victim. Just one more sentence and the pain would stop. By tomorrow night…

The glass slipped from fingers landing silently on the thick rug. His head nodded forward and his eyes slipped closed.

"'I love you, Kate. Kate, I love you'"

3


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